Until just moments ago, Han Jigang’s mind had been in chaos after hearing that Nabin had collapsed and that Kim Su-hyun was dead. But when he was reassured that Nabin wasn’t dying—that he was simply too lost in grief to come to his senses—the situation almost felt like a relief.
The person Nabin had leaned on most at the Center had been Kim Su-hyun. But Kim Su-hyun was gone. With his pillar of support dead, Nabin would inevitably need someone else to take that place.
The moment that thought struck, Han Jigang instinctively took a step back from Nabin.
…I must be out of my mind.
The faint smile that had lingered on his lips hardened and froze. He realized then that what he truly wanted was for Nabin to open up to him, even more than he ever had to Kim Su-hyun.
He didn’t want that cringing, fearful smile forced out of desperation. He wanted to see a pure, genuine smile that suited Nabin’s clear, delicate face—a smile just for him, and no one else.
For a while, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his expression clouded with confusion. Then, all at once, he clenched his fist tightly and lifted his head.
He had thought he was simply growing attached because Guiding from Nabin felt good. But that wasn’t it. If his feelings had been that shallow, his heart wouldn’t have plummeted into his stomach the moment he found Nabin collapsed on the floor.
And when Tae Yishin mentioned the possibility that Nabin had tried to kill himself, that split-second when his vision went blank—it hadn’t been fear of losing a good Guide. It had been the gut-wrenching realization that he might be nothing to Nabin.
Now that he understood his feelings weren’t just the attachment of a high-Match-Rate Esper to his Guide, Han Jigang felt oddly at peace.
“…What are you going to do now?”
Once he recognized what he wanted, retreat was no longer an option. Han Jigang wasn’t the type to give up on something once it caught his eye—no matter what it took, he had to have it.
For Nabin, that might be misfortune. But Han Jigang had no choice now. Nabin had already become someone he couldn’t ignore, and whether Nabin liked it or not, he would keep receiving Guiding from him.
The moment the act of Guiding itself—not just the result—began to matter, it was already too late. Perhaps by then, Nabin had already lost the chance to escape his grasp.
Han Jigang slowly uncurled his fist, veins still raised along the back of his hand. His palm, cool with a sheen of sweat, gently brushed across Nabin’s pale forehead.
It was only a simple touch—just brushing his forehead—but the sensation that spread through Han Jigang’s body was indescribable, no different from what he felt during direct-contact Guiding.
“…Not bad.”
It was a feeling he’d never known before. And unexpectedly… it wasn’t bad at all. To the point he thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to let myself be swayed by someone.
***
“…Kim Nabin.”
Gong Min returned straight to the mansion after clearing a B-rank dungeon in the Gangbuk area. Thanks to Nabin’s steady Guiding, his Outbreak Risk Index had fallen below 30.
In truth, he didn’t need Guiding every single day. But maybe because he had grown addicted to the frailty of that soft body, he now couldn’t rest properly without holding Nabin close. At this point, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call him like an Esper hooked on illegal Guiding drugs.
Before long, it had become a habit: every time he came back from a mission, his first stop was Nabin’s room. Standing quietly before the door, he would softly call Nabin’s name and wait for an answer.
Nabin feared all S-rank Espers. But the one he feared most was Gong Min.
And Gong Min understood why. That first time he’d received Guiding from him—the violence of it must have left a deep scar. No matter how carefully Gong Min approached, awkwardly cautious for a man of his size, Nabin never managed to shed that fear.
So Gong Min had made it a rule not to force his way in. Instead, he called his name and waited. This was his way of trying to meet Nabin halfway.
Eventually, after gathering his resolve, Nabin would open the door himself. And when that happened, holding him felt far less frightening than when Gong Min forced entry.
Click.
But the one who opened the door this time wasn’t the Guide he was waiting for. It was Han Jigang, his eyes burning faintly crimson. He’d hidden his presence so well that even Gong Min’s senses hadn’t caught it.
Normally, unless he was using his ability, Gong Min dulled his senses on purpose. Otherwise, the flood of raw, unfiltered information made ordinary life unbearable.
“You won’t be getting Guiding from Kim Nabin today.”
“…”
Han Jigang stood in the doorway like a beast guarding its young. Even Gong Min had never seen him like this before. Just yesterday, he hadn’t been this way. It was obvious to Gong Min—something inside Han Jigang had changed, and changed drastically.
The realization sent irritation crawling up his chest. That possessive attitude, as though Han Jigang had any special claim over the Guide, grated on him.
Normally, Gong Min wouldn’t have cared. He wasn’t the type to get offended so easily. But when it came to Nabin, he always lost control.
“…Move.”
Rather than leaving, Gong Min lowered his voice and demanded Han Jigang step aside. They had grown up together like friends, like brothers. But right now, Han Jigang looked no different from a monster in a dungeon.
“No. Go back to your room, Gong Min. Not today.”
It was rare for Gong Min to voice his will so clearly. And when he did, both Han Jigang and Tae Yishin usually stepped back. But this time, Han Jigang’s mood was so sharp he couldn’t even concede to such a simple demand.
“…Ha. What the hell is this supposed to be?”
The tension between them, taut enough to snap into violence at any moment, broke when a smooth, youthful voice cut in. Tae Yishin had just returned to the mansion. Feeling the abnormal swell of mana the moment he stepped inside, he had quickly sent Ryu Somin upstairs before coming straight to the Guide’s room.
So much for keeping themselves under control. Looked like they’d lost their heads again. All they had to do was take turns like machines and get their Guiding—it would’ve solved everything. But no, they had to drag their emotions into it and stir up chaos.
It was so absurd that he couldn’t help a dry laugh. If he hadn’t stepped in just then, they really might’ve come to blows. The sharp headache he thought had subsided when his Outbreak Risk Index dropped came flaring back.
Rubbing at his throbbing brow, Tae Yishin fixed the two of them with a cutting stare. He hadn’t liked leaving the Guide alone earlier, but this was beyond what he’d expected.
If something happened to the Guide, they’d be back to relying on machines. He hated that thought. Guiding from a machine couldn’t even compare to the real thing—if he lost that, he might even miss it. But still, no matter how good it felt, he would never bare his fangs at someone he considered a brother.
“Both of you, cool off. What the hell are you doing?”
At Tae Yishin’s words, Gong Min was the first to regain control. If Tae Yishin hadn’t intervened, he might really have thrown punches at Han Jigang inside a house where both the Guide and Ryu Somin were. Not only could it have destroyed half the mansion, it might have put them in danger too.
He needed to step away before he lost himself any further. Gong Min was the first to pull back.
As he passed, Tae Yishin caught sight of his expression and frowned. Normally blank and unreadable, Gong Min’s face now looked as though he was barely holding back a seething fury.
“Han Jigang, are you out of your mind? If Gong Min’s that upset, then you’re the one in the wrong.”
Gong Min rarely showed emotion. That was just the way he was. During the unstable phases, when his Outbreak Risk Index surged and Beastification set in, he grew sensitive. But otherwise, aside from those in the mansion, he barely spared a thought for anyone.
Sometimes, he even valued Tae Yishin and Han Jigang’s lives above his own. He had thrown himself in front of monsters to shield them more than once, suffering severe injuries for their sake.
For someone like him to show such open displeasure—it meant Han Jigang had truly crossed the line.
“What did I even do? All I said was that Kim Nabin couldn’t give Guiding today.”
“…Is that true?”
“Yeah.”
At Han Jigang’s defensive grimace, Tae Yishin raked a restless hand through his hair with a sigh.
This is worse than I thought.
His gaze lingered on the dark hallway where Gong Min had disappeared. He remembered Nabin’s state before he’d gone out. If the Guide still hadn’t recovered, it made sense that he couldn’t give Guiding.
Sure, their personalities weren’t the best, but they weren’t scum who would prey on someone collapsed and sick.
But for Gong Min to blow up over just that?
Whatever state the Guide was in, it had to be serious if Han Jigang had gone so far as to block even Gong Min. Tae Yishin felt he needed to see for himself.
“Han Jigang, let’s at least check if the Guide’s okay. Honestly, I didn’t feel great leaving him like that earlier either.”
But standing there, with Han Jigang blocking his way, Tae Yishin suddenly understood all too well why Gong Min had been so furious.
